Triggers… We all have them. Distant (and sometimes not so distant) memories that somehow make their way into our present. As someone who has dealt with trauma, triggers can show up uninvited. Truthfully, I hate them. I hate the discomfort… the ugly reminder. I hate the feeling of sadness that triggers, oftentimes, invoke. Oh, how one moment can trigger a feeling of despair, grief, and isolation. Oh, how the conjuring of it all can send one right back to square one. It all feels so very real.

After what seemed like a month of consecutive triggers, I began to ask questions. Triggers...Do they serve a purpose? A few weeks back, I was working with some mamas. At this particular event, I found myself surrounded by mothers and daughters… Mothers helping their expectant daughters pick out the latest in baby gear. I saw some of them laughing and joking with each other. I saw others, playfully bickering... daughters getting annoyed with their mothers for interjecting, as mothers so often do. I saw the connection, and then I remembered... how it felt to have MY mother here. I remembered how I would argue with her while picking out bath towels (because one can't possibly have enough bath towels.) I remembered going baby shopping when I was expecting my oldest son, Jax. I remembered how much fun we had. I remembered being amazed at how much my mother knew… about everything. I remembered feeling protected. I remembered feeling not so alone... and motherless. Seeing the mothers and daughters at this event triggered grief, sadness, and the unfairness of it all. It triggered anger. It even triggered resentment. Were these daughters taking their mothers for granted? Why were they bickering? Why were they getting annoyed? In that moment, I would have traded anything in the world to have had my mother here. Truthfully, if it had not been for my deep respect of boundaries, I would have told them to relish in this moment with their mothers (no matter how annoying they are.) But then, I was tossed quickly back to reality by the morbidity of saying under my breathe, “Hey, enjoy your mom now, because when she dies…” and then simultaneously ending the phrase with, “Congratulations tho.” How morbid and weird would that be?

Truthfully, I could go on and on regarding my particular triggers. For example, In the past, I have been triggered when not told the truth in its entirety. I lost my mother unexpectedly. My father didn't tell me that she was sick again until it was too late. I had two weeks to say my goodbyes, and then she was gone. So now, anytime I am taken off guard (OR the truth is hidden) feelings of betrayal, sadness, and grief can be triggered.

I am triggered, when I lose simple things or when something is taken from me. For example, last week, water was spilled on my laptop… all over my laptop. Truthfully, I would like to say that I didn't freak out. That would be a huge lie, to say the least. I completely freaked out. However, it wasn't for the obvious reasons that one would think. I freaked because I felt as though I was losing something…again. To be honest, I also feel this way when I can’t find or misplace something of value (sentimental or of monetary value). I felt this way when I lost my favorite coffee mug. I felt this way when some of our things were lost in storage, never to be recovered. All of these things (no matter how small) trigger feelings of loss… they trigger a feeling that I’ve been here before.

Triggered by plugged ducts... I remember finding a plugged duct and pumping like a maniac in the middle of the night…. talking myself off a ledge of anxiety. Having a mother who passed away from breast cancer was not only devastating but traumatic. Breast cancer doesn't run in our family. She is the only one in our family who has ever had cancer. After genetic testing, it was found that in her case, it wasn't genetic. As a breastfeeding mama, plugged ducts happen. However, as someone who lost their mother because of their breasts, a simply plugged duct can be super triggering. Negative thoughts that aren't your own can begin to run wild. Truthfully, after losing a mother to her breasts, one may never look at their own breasts the same. A wise woman told me during a similar discussion that breastfeeding can be super triggering for those of us who have lost loved ones to breast cancer. Our breasts connect us to our babes. However, breasts are also the very thing that separated us from our mothers. It's so very loaded. In the past, Plugged ducts (and breasts) have triggered a feeling of sadness, anxiety, grief, and loss.

So what do we do when history shows up to dance with our current reality? This brings me back to my original question. Do triggers serve a purpose? I remember reading from a dear friend via social media regarding insecurities: “Insecurities are not there to mock you, they are here to show you where you need healing.” I would say the same is true regarding triggers. Though uncomfortable AF, perhaps triggers are not all bad. Perhaps triggers are there to protect, to remind, and to heal. Here are a few things that we can begin to do when triggered.

1. Speak. I am finding that I feel a tad bit free(er) and a bit less isolated when I simply speak of being triggered by something or someone. When I say, “Hey, so this particular thing is triggering a traumatic memory, a negative thought, or a feeling that makes me feel uncomfortable,” I begin to feel a little less heavy. It doesn't take it away. However, there's just something about saying it. There is a release that happens. I find myself exhaling a bit. 2. Acknowledge. See the trigger. Look at it. Examine it. Hold it. Literally, put your finger on YOUR trigger. As mentioned, triggers can serve as a beautiful reminder that healing is still needed in a specific area of our lives. Where there is healing, there is gentleness. When we acknowledge that we have hurt... that there is an area that is seeking repair... we will, in turn, begin to show kindness to ourselves in that specific area that is being activated and/or triggered.3. Show gratitude. A good friend suggested that I begin to show gratitude for my particular triggers. After all, our triggers are simply doing their job. When I wrestled with the thought of permanently losing my laptop and the feeling of loss was triggered, I began to say thank you for that particular trigger. I say, 'Thank you, for reminding me that I still need healing in this area. Thank you for reminding me that in the past, I have experienced loss on a deeper level than a possible waterlogged laptop. Thank you for reminding me that because of this loss, I have the ability to feel deeply in this area and connect with others who have gone through this shared experience.' When I look in the mirror at my functioning and healthy breasts, and I am triggered by traumatic memories surrounding the loss of my mother, I show gratitude. I say, “ Thank you for reminding to self-care and to take care of my body as well as my peace. I will do so. Thank you for reminding that my mother was so very special and amazing, and dope.” Same for plugged ducts.

Lastly, triggers not only allow us to be kind to ourselves, but they encourage us to constantly live in awareness of others. By simply acknowledging our own triggers, we can begin to be cognizant of the fact that we all have an internal dialogue that is constantly taking place… that we all have stuff we are continually unpacking, shifting and healing through.

A few months ago, I was in Boston for an event. The boys were home with Jon. It was just me. I arrived to my hotel and checkin in. I had nothing to do that particular night, as our event was the next day. As I laid on the hotel bed, speaking to my husband on the phone he said, “why don't you take a bath?” My reply, “And do what?” My husband, “You know, chill… relax… in the water.” I sat there trying to compute his words. ‘Take a bath? And then what?’ My reply, “I can’t.”

Being still is hard. Period. It always has been. I’ve never been one to sit in a freshly drawn bath. I wish that I could. The lingering question has always been, “What does one do, once in the bath?” Do you sit and think of all the things that you wished you would have done during the day? Do you plan for tomorrow? Do you take stock of the many items on the never ending to do list? Or do you just simply sit… in the water… and be? How does one just sit?

`Lately, I have wondering what would happen if I finally embraced the stillness? Perhaps my thoughts would be less rapid. Perhaps my mornings would be more intentional. The older I become the more that I realize that when one gives themselves the gift of stillness, a door is opened. I find that the moments that I am still, I open the door to kindness for self and others. Rushing here and there, never pausing and seldomly reflecting has the ability to birth unnecessary and negative pressure. For what are we racing? Where are we racing too? And why so fast? I truly believe that in our society of stay ready and be ready AND hustle hard, we can miss out on the here and now… losing ourselves in comparisons… neglecting gratitude as if it is a stranger.

So what can we do to embrace the stillness? The quiet? For me, I could perhaps not check my phone at first waking. Perhaps instead, I could allow myself to experience a complete 10-15 minutes of quiet, soaking in the sounds of the birds outside my window. Perhaps, I could read a few pages of my favorite book. Perhaps I could journal. I could create a morning ritual, celebrating the stillness of it all.

What are we so afraid of when it comes to stillness? Are we afraid of what we may feel and/or hear? I for one, can be super uncomfortable with silence. Are we afraid of what may rise to the surface while we allow the stillness to fall? I am challenging myself to allow the silence and stillness to be. I am allowing myself to be ok with it all... for they are both necessary.

Vacations are good. Vacations are necessary. And repeat… This was my mantra leading up to our trip. For the first time in ten years, Jon and I would embark on an adult’s only get away to New York. It actually worked out quite perfectly. Jon was playing Afro Punk (which I was BEYOND excited about.) I was going to be doing a shoot for a brand that I held near and dear to my heart. Babysitters were in place. Needless to say, it was going to be fun. I was super excited. Leading up to our trip, (and during) I would learn some amazing things about myself. Perhaps these were things that I’ve always known. However, these nostalgic discoveries were so very evident. Here are three things that I learned during our great adventure…

I learned that I deserve good things. Before our big trip, my anxiety was on fleek!! I was afraid that at any given moment, one of our kids would catch a cold, and I wouldn't be able to go. (Please note: My kiddos are never sick.) The thought of the brand that I would be working with, canceling for unforeseen reasons, (although they have never cancelled) crossed my mind. The thought of my daredevil of a kid, Jedi... breaking an arm during one of his acrobatic stunts crossed my mind. I even imagined Afro Punk canceling due to unforeseen weather. I know… It was crazy. Anxiety made its grand appearance. Truthfully, the thoughts continued until we boarded the plane. Why were these thoughts so prevalent? Why did I feel like our beautiful four day plan would fall through at any moment? The answer was so very evident… I wasn't aware that I deserved good things. As someone who has dealt with both childhood and adult trauma, one can begin to second guess when good things happen. You begin questioning IF something/ someone/ some experiences are really as amazing as they seem. I for one, if not careful, can pick things apart to its bare bones... carefully examining the gift that has been given to me... as if it is a mysterious package left by a stranger similar to the film, “The Box.” When healing from trauma, it is very easy to doubt every good thing that comes your way, as opposed to simply embracing it. After all, the pain experienced is so very real, one’s guard is hard to let down. However, it is so very imperative that at some point, the healing begins and the exhale takes place. At some point, the folded arms that guard our wounds, must open to receive the good that so desperately would like to enter our world. Although, I can never take away the traumatic events in my life, I can still decide to embrace the beauty and wonder this world has to offer. For God sake... I deserve it!! On my trip, I prompted myself to say thank you and receive… arms open… heart open.

I learned that I am super resourceful and quick on my feet. Upon arriving in NY, my tummy began feeling upset. Perhaps it was nerves or lack of sleep on the plane. Who knows. We landed around 9am in NY. Before heading to baggage claim, I went to the restroom and freshened up a bit, and Jon and I headed out on our first adventure. First stop... my photo shoot. As our Lyft driver drops us off, my stomach by this point feels really bubbly and weird. I try my best to think nothing of it. We finally arrive in the city. As we're waiting outside of the loft, one of the shoot's coordinators comes down to meet & escort us to where we should go. Not a second after we greet each other, I do the unthinkable… I “sharted!!.” Yes. You read it right. I shart myself. For those of you who have no idea what that means, it means that I simeoultaenously farted and crapped my pants. Yep. Thank God, no one heard it. Thank God, It wasn't a huge “shart”. However, what is really a reasonable sized “shart”? Its all horrible. Its all incredibly humbling. What do I do next? I walk up the FIVE flights of stairs to the loft where we are shooting and I immediately ask for their bathroom... just citing that I need to freshen up... remaining as calm as possible. Needless, to say, my tummy is obviously upset!! (Please note: “Shart(ing) is not something that I incorporate into my everyday life.) Once I get into the bathroom, I freeze. In this particular bathroom there is no sink, just a toilet. I panic. I look through my bag and I notice that I have a water bottle and baby wipes. So... what did I do?... I did what every dope woman who sharts her pants would do. I channel my inner McGuiver and begin to give myself a bath with my freshly opened bottle of Dasani, which I had confiscated it from the plane... and baby wipes. I literally began squatting over the toilet pouring water all over my nether regions and wiping as if my life depended on it. Because it did!!! I am convinced I couldn't have bathed myself any better had I been in an an actual shower. Soon after, I got dressed... walked out of the bathroom with a Mentos smile on my face without anyone suspecting a thing. After modeling underwear for the next 7 hours, I left the shoot, giving myself a much deserved pat on the back... and the rear.

Lastly, I learned that Jon and I needed a vacation more than ever. We needed time to connect with ourselves…. just us. No distractions. We found ourselves wondering around the big apple, with no particular place to be. It was wonderful. We stayed up late. We woke up late on days that we didn't have to work. We made love on the table (because we could). We did exactly what we wanted to do, when we wanted to do it, AND where we wanted to do it (pun totally intended). I remembered WHY I chose him so very long ago. I remembered why he has been my best friend for all these years. WE remembered why every day, we choose each other. We ate vegan churros at fun vegan diners. This moment reminded me of when he and I were dating... staying up to the wee hours, eating greasy Waffle House diner food, and just knowing that perhaps this thing that we were feeling was not only mutual, but real. This trip served as a beautiful reminder. It was necessary. It was beautiful. It was a teacher. For this I am forever grateful.

Today, I have been reflective. It's hard to to wrap my head around the fact that not only will Mr. Jedi be 2 years old, tomorrow... But 2 years ago today, I was in the throws of 43 hours of intense labor. It was by far one of the most intense moments I have ever experienced. Truthfully, the intensity was beyond the surges, reminding me that this life that I had been carrying for 40 weeks, would now make its noble entrance.

I remember breathing... breathing through every contraction... through every bit of pain... It felt as if my back was being torn apart. Reading numerous hypno birthing books had gotten me to this point of no return. In that moment, I remember asking for my mother. In that moment I missed her more than ever. She was present for the birth of my oldest son, Jax. She held my hand. She reminded me that I was loved in a way that only a mother can. She watched as her baby birthed her own baby.

This time was different. She wasn't there... and nothing... and no one could replace or change this unfortunate reality. However, I believe that it was no coincidence that during my birth with Jedi, I was surrounded by love. I truly believe that every woman that was present, represented a special part of my mother... her motherhood... her protection... her sense of humor... her focus... her laughter. All of it was there in that room... in different forms... but ever present.

When I look at this photo, I am reminded that somehow... someway within the deficit, there is still abundance. Within my mothers absence, I was surrounded by such an abundance of love.

As a child, I remember waking up to the smell of bacon and coffee. I remember the smell of my mother's perfume... how it would linger around her vanity mirror in the morning. I remember the hustle and bustle... the grand parade of marching the children out of the house and on to school. Needless to say, the morning routine was real, with real memories of good.

Truthfully, my family's morning routine looks quite different than the one I remember. For starters, our family's diet is plant based. Jon and I both work creative jobs, so therefore our mornings may differ from day to day. If there is school, the morning may start earlier (around 6am to be exact). If school is out, liberties are taken... the opportunity to breathe a bit and take in the morning's glory becomes the top priority.

I usually start the day by shimmying into the kitchen to pour a fresh glass of water with a squeeze of lemon to flush out toxins and jumpstart my morning. A shower normally is soon to follow. Because I don't drink coffee, my morning shower stands in as a loyal substitute. (Side Note: I first start off with a warm shower, and then gradually shift to cold. Cold showers help improve circulation and immunity, combats stress, and increases mental alertness.)

After my shower, I moisturize with coconut oil as well as some of my favorite essential oils (patchouli, lavender, bergamot). I personally, I love using essential oils as my scent, as they are known to do more good than harm. Unlike most commercial perfumes, you can be sure that essential oils do not contain synthetic ingredients that can also act as hormone disruptors. Therapeutic grade essential oils are just that... therapeutic. They can uplift mood, ease anxiety, and cure common cold symptoms.

As far as makeup goes... I use my ultimate fave Glossier. I love their mission of creating products that truly focus on skin health.

"It all began back in 2010 on IntoTheGloss.com, our super successful beauty blog with a loyal, influential readership—and editors with a sixth-sense for what’s relevant (and what works)."- Glossier

Their Skin Tint is the best everyday foundation around. It goes on smooth and feels light. It goes on smooth and feels light... as if I'm going sans makeup, hence allowing my skin to simply glow. It becomes apparent that when wearing Glossier, people notice my skin... not my makeup. My other favorite product by Glossier is their Boy Brow. I wear this even when going sans makeup. Boy Brow is like the cherry on top, giving my brows a very full and youthful look. If I don't have time to do anything else, I will simply swipe on Boy Brow, coconut oil, and some balm.com on my lips, and I'm out the door. Trust me, as a mom of two, doula, and creative, I don't have time to sit and contour my face. I want my makeup to celebrate my skin, not hide it.

Lastly, I believe that personal style resides deep within. I don't believe that we should have to sacrifice comfort for whats considered "cool". (Cool is overrated anyways.) Give me something free flowing from my closet, a hat, and out the door I go. A lot like our choice of clothing, our morning routine says a lot about who we are... whats necessary... whats important. Our routines may all look different. They may differ from day to day. Its all good. Do you, mama... It looks good on you.